CHAPTER 26: TRIAL

Author's note: I consulted the following comics and have used ideas and/or dialogue from them: Batman 20, Batman 439, Nightwing 75

The sun was rising when I finally caught up with the Joker. He had jokerized an entire greasy spoon restaurant, complaining that the waitresses didn't look happy enough. While he was still hooting and cackling over his dying victims, I charged him and took him down. My respirator functioned perfectly. I spent the next hour dosing the customers and wait-staff that hadn't died immediately with the venom's antidote while the EMTs and paramedics worked over them.

My communicator beeped at me and I stepped outside to take the call. "Yes, Alfred?"

"Sir, we are at court. Where are you?" Alfred asked.

Court...? Oh no. I checked the time and realized that I should have been there ten minutes ago. Today wasn't a day to use my standard Bruce Wayne tactic of lazily strolling in late, wondering what all the fuss was about.

"I'm on my way," I said and ran to the car. Fortunately, I've mastered the art of the quick change and purposely constructed a batmobile with smoked windows big enough to accommodate costume changes.

When I arrived at the court house, the lobby was crowded with reporters armed with cameras, television and still. The bulbs went off like machine guns as I pushed my way through. I have often been tempted to clock some of the pushier reporters, but have always resisted the urge. That day, it was harder than ever to control that impulse, but I kept reminding myself that I was doing this for Dick. I had to be a paragon of virtue...or at least try to present myself as one. I was feeling a new sense of confidence.

I opened the courtroom door to find Dick and Alfred seated at the counsel table next to Rae Green. At the other table sat Miss Simms, Mr. Holland and the attorney for Social Services. Just as I slid into my seat next to Rae, the bailiff called the court to order and the judge entered.

"Good morning," the judge said briskly. "We are here in the matter of the adoption of Richard Grayson. That would be you, wouldn't it?" he said, looking at Dick.

Dick gave him his patented cheeky grin. The judge smiled back and went back to his file. "Now, I understand from the pleadings that this adoption is contested? The Department of Social Services doesn't believe that Mr. Bruce Wayne is a fit parent for the minor. Something about a...hedonistic lifestyle? " He peered over his glasses at Holland and Simms. "You do understand that the party who contests and adoption has the burden of proving that the potential adopter is unfit?"

The City Attorney said, "Social Services understands and is ready to present our case."

"All right then, tell me why Gotham's richest man and most famous philanthropist is unfit to adopt this child." The judge folded his ample arms and leaned back in his chair.

"I can offer an opening statement, Your Honor," said the City Attorney. "The Department of Social Services has made a determination that the minor, Richard Grayson's best interest would not be served by allowing Bruce Wayne to adopt. First, in the roughly six months since coming into Wayne's custody as a foster child, Richard has suffered various injuries which were not adequately explained..."

"Hey! " Dick jumped to his feet and yelled. "That's not fair!"

"You'll get your chance to explain, Richard," the judge said. "Sit down."

"It's Dick, not Richard," Dick said and allowed my hand on his shoulder to push him down into his seat. "Well, it wasn't your fault..." he muttered for my hearing. I suppressed a smile.

"Ahem," the City Attorney said. "To continue...We have monitored Mr. Wayne's active work and social life and determined that he simply doesn't have time to spend with a child. Additionally, in his very active...er...dating life, he brings a large and varied number of young women home to his mansion as overnight guests. Morally, we do not find this to be a fit environment for a young boy. Lastly, he has no apparent plans to hire a nanny or other adult to care for the minor. Rather, the only live-in servant in the place, an overworked, elderly butler is to provide child care in addition to his regular duties as valet, butler, chef and chauffeur."

"Well! I like that!" I heard Alfred mutter from the seat behind me.

They called Miss Simms first, as Rae and I expected. She settled in her chair.

"Would you state your name and your position for the record?" the attorney asked.

"Alberta Simms. I'm a social worker at the Department of Social Services," she said, sitting primly.

"And you were the original caseworker assigned to this minor?"

"Oh yes. I'm the one who picked him up the night his parents were killed. They were a trapeze act in the Haly Circus, gypsies you know...Itinerant performers."

"I see. And the minor was placed with Bruce Wayne? Why?"

"Well," she sighed a bit. "The Juvenile Center was overloaded that night and gypsy children are notoriously difficult to place. Well, Mr. Wayne's offer was heaven-sent. My supervisors immediately approved Mr. Wayne as a temporary foster parent. That was before we found out in depth the kind of lifestyle he leads..."

"And what lifestyle is that?" the attorney asked.

"His pitiful cafe society, playboy existence. In the four months I was tracking the case, the boy has been witness to seven bachelor parties, something on the order of eighteen late night female guests, and the boy himself has sported a black eye, bruises and a fractured wrist..."

"That wasn't his fault! You don't even know what you're talking about! I already told you I got hurt at school and you won't even listen to me! Please, let me stay with Mister Wayne, Your Honor! Please!" Again, Dick was on his feet.

The judge sighed and said, "Take your seat, young man."

"But..." Dick pled.

I put a hand on his back. "Do as he says, Dick..."

Unhappily, Dick sank back down into his chair. I leaned in and murmured in his ear. "Remember, Dick. Nothing is impassable. There is always a way around." I smiled at him with restored confidence and he settled down. The days since they'd tried to take the boy away from me again had been full of planning, and not only with my team of lawyers. I had a rabbit up my sleeve and a contingency plan if that failed.

The testimony continued. Miss Simms was spelled by Mr. Holland. He tried to be kinder but was no less pointed: I was a poor example of parenthood for a growing boy, despite my wealth and the advantages I could give Dick. Rae got up to cross examine Holland and I straightened up.

"Mr. Holland, when you visited Wayne Manor, did you find the area clean?"

"Why, yes. It was very clean," Holland said.

"Everything was in repair? There was power and light? Bathrooms?"

"If you're implying that Wayne lives in squalor, no he does not!" Holland snapped. "That's not our point."

"No, Mr. Holland. I am not implying anything of the kind. I'm merely consulting the standards you are required to go by when a child is placed with a foster parent...or an adoptive one." She looked at her notes and continued. "Did you find evidence that Dick Grayson was eating three meals a day? Perhaps more?" She smiled and a dimple showed. "I understand that Alfred bakes a mean chocolate chip cookie."

"Yes, the boy was well-nourished," Holland's face went expressionless.

"How about clothing? Were his clothes outgrown? Patched? Maybe worn out in spots?"

"No, his clothing was new. Mostly from Nieman-Marcus."

"And I understand that you observed Bruce Wayne with the boy? Was Mr. Wayne abusive to him?"

"No, not at all. They seemed very...cordial...to each other," Holland said.

"Your report says that there is 'evidence that Richard has bonded to Bruce Wayne'. What evidence did you observe?"

"The boy considers Wayne a trusted friend..."Holland muttered.

"I see. And when they are together, does Dick behave as if Bruce were a parent?" Rae dimpled again.

"Yes."

"Does Bruce act like a parent with Dick?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever seen Bruce Wayne mistreat Dick in any way at all?"

"No."

"Did Dick indicate what his own preferences are vis a vis this adoption?"

The Social Services attorney stood up. "That's hardly relevant, Your Honor. The minor's wishes need not be consulted if the child is under the age of twelve. Richard is only eight and too young to know what is in his best interests."

"On the contrary," Rae replied. "Dick knows who loves him, far better than the members of the DSS who have evaluated the situation so far. It was the Department of Social Services, abiding by its own policies that endangered this child by placing him with Richie Grayson, who almost managed to murder him. I would say that Dick Grayson knows what is in his best interests better than either Miss Simms or Mr. Holland."

The judge meditated a moment, then said, "You can answer the question Mr. Holland."

"In my interview with him, Richard said that he wanted to be adopted by Bruce Wayne."

The Department of Social Services brought a child psychologist who had never met Dick to testify. He said that it was in Dick's best interest that he have both a father and a mother to raise him. Rae shot that down fast.

"Dr. Hein, as far as you know, are there any couples waiting to adopt Dick?"

"No."

"Do you know what the DSS proposes as Dick's placement?"

"Ah...I understand they are planning on either foster care or, more likely a therapeutic group home for the boy."

"Do you agree?"

"I don't have an opinion, not having examined the boy. I will say that, given the recent trauma of having witnessed his parents' deaths and then his own life endangered, that a period of therapy would be appropriate for any child. Hence, I would agree that a therapeutic group home would not be uncalled for, especially since Richard has a fairly rough background," Dr. Hein myopically rubbed his glasses and stared at Dick's look of outrage.

"A rough background, meaning he has gypsy blood and was raised in a circus as a performer?" Rae's face took on a faint look of distaste.

Dr. Hein nodded vigorously. "Yes, that is precisely what I mean."

"That's all for this witness, Your Honor," she snorted and walked back to the table.

In the meantime, I was doing my best to keep Dick restrained. He had drawn the judge's eye more than once at the implication that he was too young to know what was good for him and that he belonged in a psychiatric facility. Dick looked near exploding with rage.

"If you have no more witnesses, then I'll allow the Petitioner to present his case. Ms. Green, call your first witness, please."